The Things I Have Yet to Do
by Sarah-Connor-is-Khaleesi
Summary: Basically the events of Terminator take place in A Song of Ice and Fire in a world where Aerys wasn't batshit crazy and Danaerys lived a normal life as a normal princess with her family. A terminator is sent back in time from the future to kill her before her son, Rhaego, can be born. After her family is killed, she is protected by a young man from the future.
1. Prolouge

In the year 311 A.C. the Night's Watch failed in its duty. The Horn of Joramun was blown and the Wall, which has stood since the Long Night, fell. Hordes of invading White Walkers and Others swept the land. They sought out and exterminated anything that lived. They had no fear, no mercy, no pity, and no remorse.

For a generation, pockets of humanity resisted. From Winterfell, to Sunspear, to Braavos, and Asshai, people fought back. Then in 343 A.C. the humans had victory in their sights. They had shattered the wave of the undead against their own stronghold. Humanity had pushed the Others back into the land of Always Winter. They had won.

But the Others would not accept defeat. Using dark magic not seen since the dawn of existence, they had sent a creature into the past. The resistance learned of this and sent one of their own after the creature. For the final battle for the fate of the world would not take place in the future. It would take place here, in the present day.


	2. New Arrivals

_Year: 298 A.C._

 _Place: King's Landing_

In the hour of the wolf, something strange occurred. A drunk is stumbling home after a night of heavy drinking at a pub. The drunken strains of _'A Bear and the Maiden Fair'_ can be discerned.

As the air temperature around him drops suddenly, he only pulls his cloak tighter. Between two buildings there is a miraculous flash of light in the darkness. The drunk is knocked on his back as an explosion fills the space.

He peers into the darkness of the alley. Groping forward, he finds that the ground directly in front of him is covered in a thin sheet of ice. The drunk stumbles to his feet and runs home as fast as he can.

Ice in King's Landing, at the height of summer? This is unnatural and not something he wants to mess with.

In the alley, at the center of the explosion is a man. Perfectly poised, he is crouched down, head knelt as though in prayer. Tall and powerfully built, he seems to have suffered no ill effects from the strange occurrence. He is also as naked as his name day. Hair covers his chest and thickens as it reaches his manhood. Nearly bald, he would never be called handsome, but he has a harsh face. His eyes are two hard chips of blue ice.

He walks away from ice shell calmly and confidently down the cobblestone street. As though he wore fine clothes instead of nothing. Like he tread on marble floors instead of night soil and trash.

Down the street at a red brick building, a blacksmith is closing up shop. He locks up his business before heading home. The naked man, undaunted, approaches him.

The blacksmith registers the odd sight moving toward him. "Nice night for a walk, ain't it?" He calls out, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

If the man noticed the blacksmith's mockery, he did not show it. "Nice night for a walk," he repeats.

"Some whore make off wif' ya clothes?" He asks.

"My clothes," he looks down, as if taking in his nudity for the first time. "I will need your clothes." He demands, completely serious.

The blacksmith is in disbelief. "Are you soft in the head? Piss off 'fore I call the Watch on you. Teach you a thin' or two."

He spits and it hits him in the eye. For a moment, neither moved. Then, without warning, the naked man picks up the blacksmith by the throat and slams him against the rough brick.

The blacksmith twitches and kicks, attempting to gain leverage against his foe. His hands struggle desperately, scratching the larger man's face. His efforts are all for naught. With an imperceptible jerk of the hands, his neck breaks and the blacksmith is dead.

He lets the dead body slide down the red brick and hit the cobblestones with a sickening thump. Then slowly, mechanically, he begins to strip him of his clothes.

In Flea Bottom, something rather similar is happening. The same burst of light, same icy explosion. Though instead of a perfect entrance, this man is thrown by the explosion and hits the wall of the alley. He struggles to his feet and surveys his surroundings.

A filthy alley, covered in the night soil of the denizens of Flea Bottom. In the dim light of the full moon, he notices someone else here in the alley. Just as last time, only a drunk is witness to this miracle. Instead of running, he is simply baffled by the display of light and nudity.

"Did you see that bright light?" He drunkenly asks the newest arrival in King's Landing.

The man makes no response except to pry to trousers off the homeless man, because he too is stark naked.

The homeless man was not the only person to witness the event. A member of the city watch has spotted the light show and is racing to investigate. When he sees a naked man, stripping a drunk of his pants in a perfect corona of ice, he reacts appropriately.

He turns around and walks the other way. Silently he blames it on the Dornish red he smuggled from the castle kitchens.

The man, naked no more, takes advantage of the guard's confusion. He runs at full tilt and slams into the heavily armored man. Unbalanced, he falls forward. Rushing at the incapacitated guard, he strips him of his sword and knife. He buckles on the sword belt before taking ahold of the guard's helmet. He exposes the his throat and presses the knife into the flesh there.

"The date! Tell me the date!" He demands as the knife cuts into the flesh of the guard's neck.

"It's the full moon!" The guard yells, twisting away from the knife.

He pushes his knee into the guard's back insistently. "The year! What year is it?"

The guard's momentary confusion allows more City Watch to show up before his throat could be opened. The man abandons his question and sprints into the alley. His long legs easily cover the distance as the armor-clad City Watch struggle on the ice. The new sword slaps against his leg as he runs.

He finds himself in a nicer part of the city as he believes he has lost his pursuers. His copper skin gleams in the light of the full moon. His long black hair is braided in a rope down his back, coming to a stop at the small of his back. Scars shine white, crisscrossing his muscular torso and arms.

He passes a line of laundry fluttering above his head. He snatches down a shirt and cloak as the City Watch finally catches up. Quickly he shoves them on and sprints down another alley. He clambers up buildings, comes down many streets later, backtracking and going down random streets until he finally believes he's lost them.

He rearranges his stolen cloak to conceal the sword. Pulling up the hood, he calmly strolls down the street. Before long he would have to find himself a pair of boots. Even if they were from another homeless man.

Looming above the city was the silhouette of the Red Keep, home of the royal family. Home of the Targaryens, and his target. Unbeknownst to him, a man in a blacksmith's clothes is heading in the same direction. Heading toward the same person.


	3. The Wedding

Her mother held the gown up for her inspection. "Tonight you will be beautiful. Tonight you will be queen."

Daenerys pushed the gown away. "Not queen, not yet." The silk was as softer than anything she had ever worn. It couldn't be for her. She was the youngest in her family, younger even than her niece and nephew. Pushed aside and forgotten, last in line for succession.

"No, not yet. But you will be." Her mother, the dowager Queen Rhealla, assured her.

Tonight she was to wed the heir to the Iron Throne, Crown Prince Aegon sixth of his name. He was tall, pretty as a woman, more educated than half the lords of Westeros, but Daenerys did not want him. He had spent half his childhood fostered with the Starks of Winterfell. Dany never saw him, apart from the occasional wedding and funeral and when she did have the occasion to speak with him, she did not like what she discovered. She found that while seemingly reserved, he had a fiery temper befitting his lineage as a Targaryen and a Dornishmen. He had a righteous indignation when provoked and disdainful of those he thought beneath him.

"I will send the servants in to bathe you." Her mother leaned into sniff her, her face pinched. "You smell of horses. Have you been down to the stables today?"

Dany nodded meekly. Horseback riding was one of the few things that gave her pleasure. Rhaella sighed, "Make sure they bathe you well. Aegon will not have his queen smelling like his groomsmen."

Her mother departed Dany's spacious chamber inside the Maidenvault, her skirt swishing behind her. When she was gone, Dany looked wistfully out across Blackwater Bay. She could see sleek fishing boats and big-bellied cogs, leaving King's Landing for their exotic destinations. Dany could imagine herself on one of those boats, leaving behind the pressure and responsibility she faced in King's Landing. She wished to be anyone else in the world right now. A magistrate's daughter from Pentos. A fierce warrior woman from the Summer Isles. Anyone but the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

There came a soft knock on her door. "Come," Dany said, turning away from the window. Her lady's maids entered, bowed and set about their business. One was small as a mouse, dark haired, and never spoke a word. The other was her favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked.

They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the shift off over Dany's head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her mother told her it was never too hot for a Targaryen. "Ours is the blood of the dragon," she would say. "The fire is in our blood."

The quiet girl washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The fair girl scrubbed her back and feet and told her how lucky she was. "Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms would kill to be you. He's so tall and handsome, and so skilled at arms. Everyone says that he is Aegon the Conqueror reborn." For centuries Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon.

When she was clean, her lady's maids helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The fair girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the quiet one anointed her with perfume, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the soft silk gown her mother presented her, a bright ivory confection of silk and Myrish lace around the daggered sleeves and plunging neckline. The girl slid soft slippers onto her feet, while other fixed a delicate tiara of rubies in her loose hair. Last came her maiden cloak, an airy confection of black silk with the Targaryen's three-headed dragon sewn in red silk in the center.

"Now you look all a queen," the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in her silvered looking glass. _A queen,_ she thought, but at that moment she wished that any other girl in the Seven Kingdoms was in her place, and she in theirs.

Her family was waiting for her in the entrance hall when her maids escorted her down. Her brother, Viserys, studied her critically. "She is too skinny," he said to their mother, "Are you sure she's old enough to be married?" His hair, the same color as hers, was pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. In contrast to their handsome, if aged, brother, King Rhaegar. His son shared his look, both as pretty as a woman.

Rhaella dismissed him. "She's had her blood. She is old enough." Her mother appraised her. "You look absolutely regal, my darling." She forced Dany's head up, her fingers under her chin. "If you would keep your head up. Don't slouch, keep your shoulders back." Dany corrected her posture.

They departed the Red Keep as the sun was high in the sky. The streets were choked with revelers eager to catch a glance at the beautiful princess. Their carriage though, made easy progress through the streets. It was warm and close inside the carriage with the Dowager Queen, Lady Rhaenys, Princess Margaery, and Queen Elia.

Rhaegar, Rhaenys father and Dany's brother, rode his black destrier behind the carriage along with Viserys, and Rhaenys husband, the Lord Robb Stark, on their own horses. They were riding up to the Sept of Baelor, where her husband was waiting. A ball of nerves built in her chest, pushing against her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Soon she would be married, she would be tied to Aegon and to this place forever. This was a future she did not want.

"Mother," Dany asked hesitantly, "I do not want to do this. I do not want to marry Aegon. I do not want to be queen." She was in near hysterics.

Rhaella gripped her arm tightly. "Daenerys, we've planned this wedding for years. More time and gold has been devoted to this wedding than most wars. We will not call it off, because the bride developed a case of nerves. You will say the vows, you will go through with the bedding, and when the time comes, you will be queen." She pinched Dany's arm cruelly. "Do you understand?"

She nodded meekly, her arm flaring in pain. Rhaella released her arm, looking grim. Daenerys cradled her injured limb. It would surely bruise. The other women, her own family, just looked at her.

Dany felt a soft touch on her hand. It was Princess Margaery. "Do not look so glum my dear. You may find that after time you will grow to love him. I know that it took time for me to love my own husband."

She knew what Margaery meant. The former lady of Highgarden was betrothed to Prince Viserys at an early age. They were married a year after her first flowering. Dany knew that Viserys was not fond of the Princess at first, but she had seen her harsh, ill-tempered brother softened by the fair rose. And Margaery in turn seemed genuinely fond of her husband.

Dany seemed to breathe easier now, the knot of worry slightly lessened. She did not know what the future held, but she was the blood of the dragons. Dragons were supposed to be fearless.

The carriage rattled to a halt at the steps of the Sept of Baelor. The roar of the smallfolk intensified as the door swung open, revealing the silhouette of Rhaegar against the midday sun. She took his hand, and stepped out of the carriage.


	4. Readying for Battle

"Myrish crossbow." The blacksmith proudly displayed his new wares to the man standing before him. "Just got it in. Can fire three bolts at once."

The man critically inspected the finely made weapon. "I'm looking for accuracy in the weapon, not quantity of crossbow bolts." Dressed in stolen clothing, he looked even more frightening than he did when he killed the last owner of his clothes.

The blacksmith nodded, understanding the man. "Here," he said, slinging a new, smaller crossbow on the counter, "I think this is what you're looking for. It can fire a bolt into a buck's eye at 100 yards."

He inspected the weapon and found it satisfactory. "I'll need a sword as well." He demanded.

The blacksmith disappeared into the back for a moment before reemerging with a greatsword at least five feet long. "The finest steel money can buy. You'd have to find a Valyrian steel sword to find one better than this."

The man visibly flinched at the mention of the metal. "No, no Valyrian steel." He seemed shaken by the very idea of it.

The blacksmith shrugged this off, and asked if there was anything else ser needed. Soon he had added a dagger, a longsword, and a quarrel of steel-headed crossbow bolts to the pile.

"So how will ser be paying? This will cost you a pretty penny. The King himself couldn't ask for a better set of weapons." He was anxious to get the intimidating man out of his store and collect his gold.

The man just mechanically loaded a bolt into the crossbow. "I won't be paying at all." He leveled the bolt at the blacksmith's face and fire. The bolt punched through his skull and out the other end. His body crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. The murderer didn't even flinch. As the blacksmith's body cooled on the floor behind the counter, he simply collected his unpaid for weapons and walked out the door.

In an alley a few streets down from the Sept of Baelor, another man was attempting to avoid the gold cloaks.

The copper-skinned man struggled to stay awake. He was waiting for the sept's bells to ring, signaling that the marriage was complete and Westeros had a new crown princess. When that happened, he needed to find her. The sept was too heavily guarded to approach her there. During the reception, when everyone was nice and drunk, including the guards, there he would find her.

But he was having difficulty staying awake. He always slept during the day, it was safer in the daylight than at night. Night was when the monsters came out. Though he had never experienced sunlight like this. When the sun came up hours ago, he thought he had died and joined the Great Stallion in the sky. Had joined his khalasar to ride through the endless plains. And the warmth given off by the sun was greater than any nightfire burned by the red priests. It warmed him to his very core.

He needed sleep though. Perhaps just a quick nap, to rest his eyes. He will need his strength. Barely had his eyes closed when he was swept into memory. A memory he'd rather not re-experience.

The memory was so clear. Though it was the sensations he remembered more than anything coherent. The biting cold against his exposed flesh, the feel of the horse thrumming underneath him, and the pure adrenaline of battle.

When fighting the enemy, they fought with fire. All around him, he could hear the crackle of flames and he could feel the heat given off by hundreds of individual fires. Some men fought with blazing branches, others with steel soaked in wildfire. Whatever they fought with, the corpses would go down blazing and not get back up.

The heat of his own sword threatened to sear the beard right of his face. Wildfire was a fickle bitch, it burned whatever it touched. He was no fool however, he was not callous enough to make that big of a mistake. He knew how to handle a blazing sword. His was an arakh, a curved sword with no hilt. Perfect for fighting foes on horseback.

His bloodriders fought beside him. Blood of his blood, Haggo. He laughs, enjoying the fight and the carnage. His laugh is quickly cut short when one of the accursed corpses, stabs him through the heart.

He is quick to react. Haggo's body must be burned before he can return. Haggo's corpse just makes another pyre burning on the battlefield. He had known Haggo all his life, he had fought with him, played with him. He was the blood of his blood. Yet he did not hesitate, watching the corpse of one his closest friends burn, couldn't even move him to tears. This was the reality he had grown up with. This was the reality that he couldn't let future generations face. He had grown up with the pale light of the sun and the constant threat of death. He would not flinch now, not when they were so close.

Spurring his horse, he rode back off into the thick of battle.

He awoke with a start, hearing the sept's bells tolling in the distance. He sprinted off down the narrow alleyway. There was a crowd blocking his way. Over the top of their heads, he could see a procession making its way down the streets.

There, he could see her. A fair maiden wearing a white dress, draped in the black and red colors of her house, the house of her new husband. He rode next to her on a great black destrier, waving and smiling. What a great fool.

They would make their way down to the Red Keep where the reception would take place. Hundreds of laughing, drunk fools paying more attention to their dinner plates than the princess. But what did he expect to do? Walk right in and make off with their future queen? He needed to think of something better than that.

Suddenly, he remembered something a friend of his had told him a long time ago. He darted off away from the crowd, and down to the wharf.


	5. A Black and Red Wedding

Once the vows, the singing, and the endless droning of the High Septon was finished, the wedding party streamed out of the Great Sept and down the streets of King's Landing back to the Red Keep.

Dany rode on an obsidian black destrier next to her new husband. Now without the walls of the carriage surrounding her, she could see the endless crowds that had gathered to see her and Aegon wed. She felt sick to her stomach as her horse carried her through the city. She gave nervous little waves to the immense crowd, barely held back by members of the City Watch.

They finally made their way to the Red Keep. Aegon dismounted first and came over to help Dany off her horse. His strong hands gripped her around her waist, and he lifted her off her saddle with ease. As he escorted her into the throne room, Dany couldn't help but look up at him and admire his striking profile.

 _'He is rather handsome.'_ Dany thought. _'Perhaps everyone is right. Perhaps I will love him one day.'_

Here in the throne room, a massive reception has been set up with seventy-seven courses, entertainment from the Free Cities of Essos, and even a dancing bear. Dany sampled the first of the many courses. A light spicy soup, roast swan, lamprey pie, capons, even several Dornish dishes were served in honor of the Queen.

Throughout the entire feast Aegon did not speak to her. Beside him sat his own parents, the King and Queen. Dany could see him speaking quietly with his father many times. On Dany's side sat her mother, and down from her mother sat Rhaenys and her good-family, the Starks. After the King and Queen were Viserys and Margaery and the Tyrells.

All the assembled lords and ladies would come to wish Aegon and Dany well. First there was the Starks of Winterfell, Eddard, Catelyn Stark, and their children. There was Robb, who was married to Rhaenys, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Dany noted that out of all the children, it was only the girl Arya who had inherited her father's look. She could not help but admire the eldest girl, Sansa, who at eleven was only a few years younger than Dany. Even Dany could see that the young girl would one day become a great beauty.

Then came the Tullys of Riverrun. The old and infirm Lord Hoster Tully stayed behind, instead sending his son, Edmure Tully.

After them were the Arryns of the Vale, Lord Jon Arryn, Lady Lysa Arryn and their son Robert Arryn. Dany later found herself shocked when she witnessed Lysa breastfeed her eight-year son, Robert. She was not the only one surprised by this, Dany could see many in Great Hall leering at the plump Lady of the Vale feeding her son.

The Tyrells of Highgarden came next, followed by the Lannisters of the Rock, the Baratheons of Storm's End, and lastly the Martells of Sunspear. They all came and went in a blur, delivering their best wishes and wedding gifts all removed from the hall by servants.

Dany herself had been presented with, that day, a riding saddle from Margaery and Viserys, a fur-lined coat from Robb and Rhaenys, a silver necklace strung with amethysts from Edmure Tully, and Oberyn Martell himself presented her with the greatest gift. Causing quite a commotion in the hall, Oberyn brought forth through the crowd a gleaming sand steed from Dorne. Dany stepped forward to meet him. She stroked the soft muzzle of the horse. The sand steed was the color of polished silver and its coat gleamed in the soft candle light of the Great Hall.

"She's beautiful." Dany whispered to herself. Never had she seen a horse so fine, so perfect.

"A beautiful horse for the most beautiful woman in the world." Oberyn declared, his dark eyes twinkling.

Dany wanted nothing more than to leave the feast right now to ride her new horse, but the silver steed was removed from the hall to the stables. Dany had to return to her seat next to her husband.

Several courses later, Dany was picking at her roast boar while the dancing bear entertained the drunken fools in the hall. A man stepped forward through the crowd and past the dancing bear. He was tall, broad, and was covered in hair. Beneath his poor clothes, Dany could see the bulges where weapons were hid. She straightened up as he approached the King and Queen. Behind them stood all seven members of the Kingsguard. No one would dare to hurt them.

The King stood. "What is your name, good ser?" Rhaegar asked the burly man.

"I was once known as Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island." Despite the King's confusion, Ser Jorah went on. "I have brought a gift meant for the King on his wedding."

"Then present your gift, good ser." Rhaegar demanded. Ser Jorah whipped out a beautifully carved crossbow with a bolt already loaded. Without saying a word, he pulled the trigger and the bolt buried itself in Rhaegar's head.

Screaming and mass chaos ensued. Lords and Ladies raced from the hall, the Kingsguard drew their weapons and descended on the assailant. Dany hit the floor as Aegon threw himself on top of her, shielding her with his body. She could hear Elia screaming, then silenced with the twang of a crossbow firing.

Aegon pushed her away from the fighting, lowered in a crouch they made their way behind the Iron Throne were there was a door, leading to the small council chamber. Behind followed the Starks and the Tyrells.

The door slammed behind them and was barricaded with the small council's table and chairs. Aegon, already back on his feet moved for the door. "I have to go back out there."

Viserys stopped him. "Are you mad?" Viserys yelled. "There is a man out there who just murdered our King and Queen. Do you not think he will the chance to kill another? You cannot through away your life!"

Rhaenys stepped forward. "He's right Aegon, we will not allow you to die. Westeros needs their King now."

Looking resigned, Aegon stepped away from the door. "You're right." He sighed. "You're all right. If he's looking for Targaryens to kill, let's make it difficult for him. He may be part of a larger conspiracy."

He pointed toward the Starks, "Take Rheanys back to Winterfell immediately. Do not take the Kingsroad, board a ship for White Harbor and go from there." Then he spoke to Viserys. "Leave for Highgarden by dawn, sail around Dorne toward the Shield Islands. Then I will see that the Queen is safely escorted to Dragonstone."

After a moment I realized he was talking about me. I was the Queen now. I took several deep breaths to keep from fainting. My brother was dead and now I was the Queen. And somebody quite possibly wanted to kill me. And to think that this morning I was worried about being in love with Aegon. I had much bigger concerns now, like not being murdered.

Margaery and Viserys were escorted back to their chambers to get some sleep before they left for Highgarden in the morning. Guards waited outside their door, watching for assassins. Another stood in the adjoining chamber. Viserys sat on their bed, a dark expression on his face while he watched his wife undo her hair and let her dark curls cascade down her back.

She turned to face her husband. "What do you think will happen now? Now that the King and Queen are dead?"

Viserys leveled an intense stare at Margaery. "Their murderer will be caught and punished severely. I imagine he'll have quite the example made of him. If my father were still alive, he would have this 'Jorah Mormont' burnt alive." He sat quiet for a moment. "I haven't any idea what Aegon will do with him."

Margaery carefully regarded her husband. "If you were King? How would you punish him?" She asked hesitantly.

"I would have him hung and drag his body through the streets before lashing him to the castle walls and letting him rot there. I would have everyone witness what happens to fools who dare to defy their Kings." Viserys's eyes gleamed malevolently.

Creeping closer to the bed where Viserys sat, Margaery let her hands roam across his body. "You would be the greatest king Westeros had ever known. You would be feared and worshipped." She whispered in his ear.

Viserys tensed under her hands, he gasped, turning around and pulling Margaery closer to him. "You speak of treason." He hissed.

Her voice softened. "Not treason. Not if the assassin did away with poor Aegon before he could be stopped. You would be the king who bravely took up the mantle of leadership during Westeros's time of need."

A small smile crept across Viserys's face. "I could be the King."

"And I your queen." Margaery whispered. She leaned close and pressed her lips against Viserys's. He deepened the kiss and pulled her flush against him. His fingers flew across her body, pulling off the thin night shift she wore.

Margaery reached down and undid the strings holding his trousers up. Pulling them down, she grasped him in her hand and stroked his already growing erection. Viserys panted loudly as Margaery peppered kisses up and down his collar bone, working her way down his chest and towards his manhood.

When she kissed a spot directly below his navel, Viserys moaned and a name slipped from his lips. _'Daenerys.'_

Margaery stopped her actions immediately, staring in horror at her husband. Before either of them could react, Margaery's head was pulled back by a strong hand gripping her hair. With her throat exposed, a large hand ran a knife through Margaery's throat, her body emptying of blood. He let her go and she collapsed on Viserys, still half naked.

He scrambled away, pushing Margaery's dead body off him. He ran to the next room, calling for the guard. The door busted open and three guards surrounded the intruder. The assassin threw down the small knife and drew his greatsword, cutting down the first guard who attacked him.

The next got under his guard and brought his own sword down on the intruder's arm. This should have taken his arm off. Instead, when the sword made contact it shattered, sending fragments everywhere. Ser Jorah simply turned around and with a single stroke, took off the guard's head. The third threw his sword down and begged Ser Jorah for mercy. He cried and begged for Mother to show mercy. Ser Jorah's sword went through his heart neatly, silencing him.

Viserys was still in the room, watching the events unfold with horror. He held his own sword out in front of him, desperately trying to look brave. The sword shook in his hand as Ser Jorah approached. Viserys, in a last ditch effort, rushed the assassin and plunged the blade into his heart.

Ser Jorah calmly regarded the three feet of metal sticking out of his chest like one would regard a pesky insect. He slowly pulled the sword out, the end of it covered in frost. Viserys quietly witnessed the event in silent terror. He didn't say a word, even when Ser Jorah plunged the frost-coated blade into his gut. Viserys laid on the ground bleeding as the assassin walked away.


	6. Deep Beneath the Red Keep

Daenerys sat at her bed, watching her mother and her husband scuttle around the room throwing clothes into chests. She had changed from her wedding gown into an old dress made of plain cotton dyed a deep purple and a black cloak with a deep hood.

In a few moments she, Aegon, and her mother would leave for Dragonstone. There was a ship waiting for them in the harbor with muffled oars and black sails to better slip into the darkness. They did not know whether the assassin, Jorah Mormont, had other conspirators.

Her mother gripped her hand, "Don't just sit there, we have to leave now." Even the Queen had changed. A dark blue dress and a cloak to better hide their distinctive hair and eyes from would-be assassins.

Rhaella pulled her along out the door with Aegon following close behind, sword in hand. They met up with the only two Kingsguards to have escaped the slaughter in the Great Hall. Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister waited for them. They slipped down one of the servants stairs to the kitchens, from there they would make their way through the city to the harbor.

Dany slipped on the steep stone stairs, but her mother simply pulled her back up and they kept running. She was breathing heavily when they got to the kitchens and Ser Barristan signaled for them to stop.

There was a dark figure lurching in the darkness of the abandoned corridor. Dany could hear his heavy breathing and his shuffling steps as he dragged his feet across the floor. Dany gasped with relief when he came into the light and she saw his bright silver hair. It was Viserys.

Her relief turned to panic when she saw all of him. The hilt of sword protruded from his gut. The wound bled freely. She suspected the only reason he'd lasted as long as he did, was that the sword was keeping most of the blood in.

Dany raced to his side, only to have him collapse in her arms. He gripped her tightly, pulling Dany close to him. Viserys brought his lips close to her ear. "He's still in the castle. He got into our rooms, murdered Margaery." Viserys whispered hoarsely.

Dany tried to tug him to his feet. "Come on, we have to get you to a maester. You'll be fine."

Viserys fought her efforts to help him. "No, Dany listen to me. That thing, whatever he is, he cannot be killed."

"You're delusional. You've lost too much blood." Dany was hysterical now. Her brother was dying. She'd already watched one brother die, she wasn't going to watch another one. Not if she could help it.

"You don't understand Dany!" Viserys yelled. "He's not human! Dragonstone isn't far enough. Pentos, Qarth, Asshai-by-the-Shadow. Get as far away as you can. Before it's too late." With that Viserys choked up the last of the blood in his body. Viserys had breathed his last.

Aegon knelt by her side. "What did he tell you?" He asked Dany.

Still staring into her brother's dead eyes, she told him, "That Ser Jorah is no typical assassin. That he isn't even human."

Somewhere within the castle walls, there was something inhuman and it was coming after her. Dany could feel it in her bones. "We have to leave now!" Dany yelled.

"But the prince!" Ser Jaime argued. "We can't leave him here."

Dany stood to face the Kingsguard knight. "Viserys could have stayed where he was and hope for help, instead he came to warn us because he was afraid that it would find us first. We leave now!" Dany commanded.

It was too late thought. It had already found them. It came out of the gloom behind Viserys, silhouetted in darkness. Dany could feel the temperature in the corridor drop several degrees.

Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime stood in front of the group, blocking them from the assassin. "Stay behind us, my Queen." Ser Jaime demanded.

"Daenerys, follow me." Aegon commanded. Rhaella stood behind him looking stricken.

Her brother's murderer came closer. Dany could see where he'd been stabbed through the chest. Viserys was right. If that didn't kill him, nothing could. The two knights could never hold him off. She wouldn't be safe with Aegon and her mother, he would follow them. Viserys had promised that.

Dany stood there in the corridor, frozen with fear and indecision when she felt a strong hand clamp around her arm. She turned to face the stranger and was met with dark, piercing eyes.

"Come with me if you want to live." The stranger growled in a deep voice. Behind her, Dany could hear the first sounds of a fight, steel meeting steel. She looked over her shoulder at Aegon and her mother fleeing in the opposite direction. Grabbing the stranger's hand, she followed him back the way she came.

The sounds of fighting faded behind them as they made their way back to her rooms. "Where are you taking me?" She asked, breathing heavily from exertion.

They entered her rooms and he let go of her hand, dropping to his knees of the floor. "Secret passages in the walls. The way I come in." The stranger spoke haltingly and with an accent as though the Common Tongue was not his first language. He groped along the inside of the large fireplace that dominated Dany's room. The stranger, finding what he was looking for, stepped back as the back wall of the fireplace slid away. It revealed a dark chasm that led downward.

He entered the fireplace and slipped down the shaft. "Follow me." He commanded.

After a single moment of hesitation, Dany followed the stranger down into the darkness. She found a ladder under her feet and stepped further into the chasm below her. In the complete silence of the darkness, Dany could hear the soft tinkling of bells. The single pinpoint of light from her room, slowly disappeared, the wall moving back to its original position and concealing their escape route.

Eventually they came to a halt. The stranger lifted her down from the ladder and set her down gently on the floor. Once again he took her hand and led her through the darkness. After what felt like hours of wandering with no direction, Dany spoke up. "How do you know where we're going?" She asked.

"Used to the darkness." He grunted in reply. "See very well in it."

The perpetual fear she'd been holding onto since Rhaegar was murdered, slowly started to dissipate down here in the dark with this stranger. "What is your name?" Dany asked him.

She couldn't see anything down here, but she swore that she could feel the man's eyes on her.

"Not important." He replied.

"Not important!" Dany cried, incredulously. "You saved my life, I think I deserve to know your name!"

The man halted, bringing her to a stop. She could hear the soft bells chiming as he turned to face her. Again, she swore she could feel his eyes on her. "Drogo. My name is Drogo."

"You're Dothraki." Dany declared breathily.

"How do you know?" Drogo asked.

"Drogo is a Dothraki name. And the bells in your hair, they denote victories. How many have you won?"

"All of them." Drogo said quietly. He turned and continued down the tunnel, dragging Dany behind him.

Dany was amazed. "You've won every battle you've ever fought? Have you ever cut your hair?"

"Never."

She was completely shocked. Why was a Dothraki horselord here in King's Landing? Such a powerful Dothraki would never have crossed the Narrow Sea. Why did he save her life? And why did Jorah Mormont want to kill her family? There was something very wrong going on here.

Dany dug her heels in and stopped in her tracks. "Stop, now!"

Drogo spun around and glared at her. "What!"

"What is going on here?! Why did you save me? Why does someone want to kill me in the first place?! How did you know that the secret passage existed in the first place?" Dany was furious. "I want to know what's going on for once in my life!"

She could hear Drogo sigh. He sank to the floor and pulled Dany down with him. She sat delicately onto the damp floor, feeling it seep into her dress. Suddenly she was flooded with warmth when Drogo lit a torch, holding it so they could speak to one another face to face.

His dark eyes swam with the warm light of the torch. His copper skin glowed in the light of the fire. Dany found herself drawn to his piercing eyes. The flame wavered as he began to speak.

"I am Drogo. Bloodrider to Khal Rhaego. Jorah Mormont is not human. He is White Walker."

Dany was flabbergasted. "That's-that's impossible. White Walkers don't exist. They were a fairytale to scare children, like snarks and grumkins."

Drogo's eyes harden as he speaks. "They don't exist, not for another five and ten years. He can feel no pain, he will never eat, never sleep, cannot be reasoned, or bargained with, he will never stop. And he was sent from year 343 to here to kill you."

Dany looked at him with a skeptic eye. "Of course." As fast as she could, Dany bolted away from Drogo. He was delusional, crazy. Why had she ever followed him? She didn't even get five feet before being snatched by the back of her dress and hauled back to Drogo. One of his arms snaked around her waist, pinning her against his chest. The other was wrapped around her upper body. She bit down as hard as she could on his hand. He did not let her go, but he did stifle a moan of pain.

"The Walker can't fell pain, but I can. Don't do that again." Drogo warned her.

Dany whimpered in fear. "Why would he want to kill me? I haven't done anything. The only event of note in my life was marrying Aegon."

Drogo shook his head solemnly. "Not something you've done. Something you will do. In nine moons, you will give birth to a son."

At this point, Dany nearly fainted from shock. Someone kills most of her family, tries to kill her, gets rescued at the last moment by a delusional man who tells her she's going to have a son. "A son." She whispers.

"A great man. A great king. Frees world from Long Night. And my greatest friend. He was one who sent me here to protect you." Drogo whispers almost reverently.

"What's his name?" Dany asks.

"Dothraki call him Khal Rhaego. Westerosi call him King Rhaego Targaryen the Righteous." Drago pauses, letting Dany catch up. "He taught us to fight back. To fight against the White Walkers. And we were winning. We broke them upon their own stronghold, they had lost."

Dany absorbs this shocking information. "If you won, why did you come back to save me?"

"White Walkers only saw one path to victory. Kill Rhaego. But it was too late to kill him then, we already won. If he never existed, they would win." Drago informs Dany.

Dany suddenly felt light-headed. She rested her head between her knees and tried to calm her breathing. "I don't believe this. I need a moment."

"You don't have a moment. We have to keep moving." Drago demanded, standing tall. "We need to keep as much distance as possible between us and it."

Dany got to her feet, took Drago's hand once again, and set off into the darkness.


	7. The Wight's Weakness

When they exited the tunnels they were standing on the edge of a cliff that looked out over Blackwater Bay. Dany took a single look over the precipice and immediately backed away. She didn't get very far, Drogo was standing behind her and halted Dany in her tracks.

"Now we climb." Drogo told her sternly.

Dany could see the waters of the bay churning below them, smashing against the rocks at the base of the cliff. "What if I fall?" Dany asked as familiar panic began rising in her throat.

"You won't." Drogo said simply. He walked to the edge of the cliff and lowered himself down. When she peered over the edge again, he was only a few feet below her, climbing down a set of footholds that had been carved into the cliff face.

Glancing behind her, reminding herself she couldn't go back, Dany gathered her skirts and her courage and inched her way off the edge. She found the first footholds easily and followed Drogo down the cliff face. After several minutes her arms began to weaken, she wanted to give up, they ached so badly. Dany reminded herself that they were only halfway down and she had to force herself to go on.

At one point, her foot landed on a loose patch of rocks and came out from under her. Dany clung tightly to the side of the cliff, but she'd seen the sheer drop to the rocks below and fear had her frozen. Drogo seemed to notice her terror, she felt his hand on her waist, comforting her. "You must keep moving." He bade her. Slowly, hesitantly, Dany pried her fingers from her handholds and continued on her way down.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the cliff, Drogo's hands wrapped around her slim waist and lowered her to the ground. He took her by the hand and led her across the rocky shore where the waves of Blackwater Bay beat. She could see where Drogo was leading her. Aegon's High Hill, the hill that the Red Keep had been built upon, sloped downwards until the shore of Blackwater Bay met the wharfs of King's Landing. Drogo was leading her away from the Red Keep and into the city where they could easily lose their pursuer in the labyrinthine streets and alleys.

They followed the path for some time until the shore met the city. King's Landing was silent at this hour of night. Everyone in the city had heard the bells, they knew what they signified. Their King had died. Not even the beggars dared to be out on a night like this, when the Gold Cloaks would be out in full force, looking for the assassin.

For such a large man, Drogo slipped through the night as quiet as a cat. It made her reflect upon what he had told her. Dany wondered if she could really trust this man.

"Where are we going?" She finally asked him.

Without turning back to look at her, he says, "Just keep moving."

Dany has a moment of hesitation. She followed this man, trusting him to protect her, but Drogo doesn't even know where he's going to take her. Glancing around her surroundings, Dany wondered if she could lose him within the streets. She doesn't get the chance to run though.

Drogo, without warning, throws his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Pressing himself against the wall of the building, he attempted to blend into the long shadows cast over the street. He presses one hand over her mouth, smothering any noise or protest she might make. His eyes flicked back and forth, searching for danger. Dany was starting to think that he overreacted, when a flicker of motion caught her eye.

It was him. She could see the glimmer of his sword in the moonlight and the outline of his hulking form. There was no mistaking him. He didn't seem to have realized where they were yet, but it was only a matter of time before he saw them.

Very carefully, Drogo extracted his hand from over Dany's mouth. Grabbing her hand, he led her quietly down an alley, away from the assassin. They snuck down backstreets, careful not to make a single noise to give away their position. They had put several blocks between them and the Ser Jorah, yet Dany could still feel his insidious presence behind them, urging them forward. She dared not look over her shoulder, terrified to see his shadow trailing them.

Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Drogo pulls Dany into an empty building, hiding behind the doorway. He releases her and starts rummaging silently through the detritus strewn across the floor. She can see him striking something and suddenly a soft glow fills the room. The soft light of a small fire illuminates their surroundings. Breaking an oil lamp, Drogo soaks the floor in oil. He pulls Dany across the room and urges her up a ladder, leading to the second level of the house. Crouching at the top of the ladder, Drogo holds the flaming torch, waiting for Ser Jorah to arrive.

"When I tell you to run, run. Go out the window into the next house," he points out a window several feet from where they sat, "run down to the wharf. I'll meet you there." Drogo whispers urgently to Dany.

Dany looks out the window he pointed out, fear rising in her throat. "What are you going to do?" She asks, fearfully.

"Try to kill it."

Just as he says the words, the shadow of their pursuer appears in the doorway of the house where they hid. He steps into the center of the room, oblivious to the danger lurching above him.

"Run." Drogo whispers urgently into Dany's ear.

Dany doesn't hesitate, she only reacts. She throws herself out the window, the house barely a foot from the next one. A sudden rush of heat behind her only urges her through the house to the street below. Her feet hit the pavement and she breaks into a flat out sprint through the streets. Desperately trying to remember where the wharf is, Dany is led there by the stench of fish and salt water.

Lining the docks sat dozens of ships all drawn here by the wedding, her wedding. It all seemed like a distant memory, even though it took place not hours ago. She could see torchlight at the far end of the pier. Lured by the promise of safety, she ran in the direction of the light. She's stopped when someone slams into her. Lashing out at her attacker, a large hand clamps over her mouth.

"It's Drogo."

Her attacks cease immediately. "What happened to him? Did you kill him?" She demands desperately.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. The fire must have drove him away, but he's wounded badly."

Her hands desperately clutch around her cloak. "Let's leave now." She tried to pull him along, eager to leave their attacker behind. The danger had not yet passed, she knew that. Drogo followed her lead, just as eager to leave the place behind. Though they did not travel towards the light, instead moving away from it. Dany knew it was for the best. If what Drogo had said was true, then her family nor the Kingsguard could help them now. They would only put more people in danger.

That was when she heard the click of a crossbow. A scream instinctively rose in her throat. The fire hadn't killed him, he was still after them. Drogo's sword flashed out and struck their attacker, but more descended upon them. Three men disarmed Drogo and forced him to the ground. Another grabbed Dany. She tried to fight them, but they managed to subdue the two of them.

"Queen Daenerys." One of them cried. "You're safe now. He won't hurt you."

She tried to explain. He wasn't going to hurt her, he saved her, and that the real murderer was still out there.

One of the men holding Drogo down, continued to talk. "You're under arrest for the murder of King Rhaegar, Queen Elia, Prince Viserys, and Princess Margaery."


End file.
